The Reaper's Madness
by OhMyGodWhyDidIWriteThis
Summary: Kid's therapy ends up diving a little... too deep.
1. Introduction

AN: Two notes here! First, the final chapter of SALN is being worked on. This little plot bunny has just been gnawing quite furiously at my mind for awhile now and has refused to let go.

Second, this is based off of that small throwaway line in the second manga. "After that, Kid was in bed for a week, and he missed school for a month right after he first started… since then he's been persevering and attending school while going to counseling sessions."

I don't know about you, but I'd love to find out what happened during those.

* * *

The letter had arrived in a sealed unmarked envelope and, if her work load hadn't been slow that day, Rebecca would have just dropped it into the garbage. Before its arrival, and directly afterward, she had barely been able to take five seconds for herself with the phone ringing, but now she found herself with nothing but time on her hands. The lull in work prompted her to slit it open; the brunette felt that she was going to go mad from boredom.

In retrospect she could see how it all was planned out. And it was a good thing too. Her most fascinating patient would have slipped through her fingers it the letter had stayed sealed.

The heading was marked with the logo of the Death Weapon and Meister Academy, causing the woman to arch one brow. She flicked her gaze down to the bottom of the paper to see who had sent it and both brows went up when she saw _Lord Death_ printed above his seal. _The Grim Reaper himself…?_ This more than caught her attention and she leaned back in her chair, getting comfortable as she started to read the letter.

_Dear Miss Rebecca Braswell-_

_I apologize for the informal method of contacting you, but you currently remain outside of my normal means of communication. As you may have already gathered I am Lord Death and I am reaching out to you in regards to a deeply personal matter._

Here she paused to lower the letter and think. It had only been _once_ but Rebecca remembered hearing Lord Death speaking at some gathering or another at the academy. It was awhile ago and the man – or god – had been distinctively… _in_formal. Not at all the same tone that was being conveyed to her now.

_My son has recently expressed an interest in attention the academy himself but his social anxieties have already caused quite a few problems. I do understand that this is rather short notice for someone of your caliber and that it is doubtful you have an opening for him, but I ask that you try. I believe you both would benefit greatly from the experience._

"Ha," she muttered. "Of course you would think that."

_You will be compensated quite handsomely for your efforts if you do decide to take my son on as your client. The only thing I ask is that you do not reveal who it is you are treating; I would rather that bit of information be kept private. If you do decide to accept my offer than please contact me via mirror. The number is 42-42-5564. _

"Via mirror?" Rebecca had heard only heard of that once before – it involved writing the number down, generally in the fog from a person's breathe. _He could have been a little more specific about… everything_, she thought with a small frown. Still, the chance to treat the Grim Reaper's son…

There was nothing to decide. She folded the letter neatly and placed it on her desk before standing. Rebecca walked over to a small mirror that was hung in the back of her office and breathed out on it before pressing her finger to the fogged over surface. "Forty-two, forty-two…"


	2. Session 1

Oh... my god. Seriously guys, thank you all for the reviews. I don't think I've ever had such a positive response to an idea and it definitely encouraged me to get this out as quickly as I did. I really hope this lives up to your expectations!

* * *

"Your 8 A.M. is here."

Rebecca nodded, ignoring the fact that the voice had come from the small grilled speaker on her desk. After a moment she reached out to click down on the red button on the base of the speaker, murmuring a low "Send him in" when she did. Her focus was on the computer monitor in front of her and she continued to type rapidly, hurrying to finish up a reporting she had started. It wasn't clicking with her yet just who exactly had arrived and she hated leaving things only half finished; no matter how hard she tried she was never in quite the same frame of mind when she went back and whatever point she had been working toward was lost.

"And done." She clicked the save button and smiled before realizing just what her secretary had said to her not even five minutes prior and what her response had been. _Today's the first day with Lord Death's son and I left him waiting. _ She stood quickly and looked around for her clipboard and pen, grabbing both before hurrying out of her office into the meeting room. "I'm so sorry about the delay," she started to say, but stopped and blinked when she saw no one in the room.

_That's… odd. Lori wouldn't have told me anything if he wasn't here…_ Rebecca walked forward into the room, more than a bit perplexed. She let the door to her office close as she walked over to an overstuffed armchair and placed the clipboard onto the seat. Of course there had been a delay in her coming out to see him, but it hadn't been _that _long… _Maybe he just…_

She didn't have to finish her thought. Rebecca became aware of a soft rustling sound from the side of the room and she glanced over to see a young teen sitting on the floor before her bookcase. The only way she could think to describe his position was 'cross-legged' except his legs weren't actually crossing. Instead he sat with his knees bent out so that his feet were touching together in the middle. _That's peculiar_. He made no sign of having noticed her and just continued to work as she slowly walked over to him.

"Yes?" The voice surprised her. Rebecca had been certain the teen hadn't noticed her – despite her announcing that she was in the room – and had slowly walked up behind him before he spoke. He still didn't bother to look behind to see her and instead appeared completely engrossed in his task. With much deliberation he pulled each book out and carefully examined it, running his fingers along the cover and the spine before placing it down on one of many piles that were forming around him. There seemed to be no order to how they were being grouped together but he acted as if each pile was a carefully selected category. "Can I help you?"

"Well, you could tell me your name." As she spoke Rebecca crouched down by the teen. From the side she could see several white stripes that cut oddly across his hair, and when he finally glanced over at her she could see the gold in his eyes. _What an odd color. _"My name is Rebecca Braswell, but you can call me Rebecca."

"… My name is Death the Kid." There was a small pause before he added: "You can call me Kid."

"Well then Kid, why don't you come over and take a seat so we can talk?" She gestured to one of the several chairs that had been set up around the room. He didn't even bother looking away from the books as he shook his head.

"I need to finish this. They weren't…" The corner of Kid's lip curled into a slight sneer. "Symmetrical."

"Symmetrical?" Rebecca repeated slowly. She looked at the books remaining on the self and raised one brow; they all still appeared to be in perfect order to her, organized by author's last name. "Books generally aren't arranged for symmetry. How would you ever find what book you're looking for? They're listed by subject or author and the size changes based on when it was printed."

His hands stutter-stopped for a moment in mid-reach as the teen appeared to mull over that thought. After the briefest pause he just shook his head and continued to pull the books out. "Symmetry is key," Kid muttered, his focus fully on the task at hand.

It was starting to become clear to Rebecca that Kid wasn't going to necessarily cooperate with the process. _Well that's just fine,_ she thought as she straightened and stepped back to her chair. She retrieved the clipboard and pen before returning to her position beside the teen and the therapist sank down to the ground beside him. "Why symmetry? Shouldn't function matter over form? The arrangement of the books becomes useless if you ignore their logical order." As she spoke she tapped the end of the pen against the unmarked paper.

It was the noise that finally attracted his attention and Kid turned his head to fully look at the woman. "Are you going to write down everything I say?" he asked in a rather flat tone. She smiled in response and lifted the pen from the paper, tapping it against her chin instead.

"Not everything, no, but it's hard for me to keep track of what we've talked about if I don't take some notes. If it bothers you I don't have to though. I just might need some reminding on what we've talked about."

Again he hesitated, but Kid finally nodded shortly before looking down at the piles of books surrounding him. "Do what you need to do," he said softly, looking a bit lost. Rebecca nodded and lowered the pen to jot down a few words. _Symmetry = defense mechanism? _

"So let me guess. It was your father's idea for you to go here, not yours," she said slowly. No child of fourteen was going to suggest they go to any sort of counseling, making the statement a bit moot, but Rebecca had learned that it was a good way to get the client on her side. _Trust me, I understand. It's always unpleasant when you're forced to be somewhere you wished you weren't._

"No," he said again, voice still just as soft, but Kid started to turn so that he was facing her. "I thought of it myself. I can't attend school like this and the interaction with the students is a necessary part of understand my duties as a grim reaper. If I am to take over my father's position one day then I will need to be able to work with them."

Her eyes widened a bit in surprise and Rebecca wrote down a few more words. _Self reliant, initiative, situational control? _"That's very mature for someone your age."

"I am a reaper."

"And you're still just fourteen."

Kid didn't seem pleased with her argument; his eyes slid shut some, the look he gave her a mixture of boredom, irritation and ire. "I did research into you before deciding you would be the best," he continued on, acting as if the interruption hadn't occurred. "You specialize in… young adults and your practice is still new, lowering the likely hood of my appointments here being discovered. You also graduated at the top of your class in both graduate and post graduate studies."

"I also didn't attend very prestigious schools either," Rebecca pointed out. Privately she was impressed with the amount of effort he had put into locating a good therapist; most people seemed to do nothing more than open the back of a phonebook and throw a dart at the page to see who they would call first. "It's not hard to reach the top when you're facing less competition."

"The schools you attended only accept forty-percent of their applicants," he said in a rather matter-of-fact tone. "Getting in and being in the top five percent is better than attending a higher quality school and being lower in the bracket. You were able to pick an environment that suited your needs perfectly instead of striving for something that was beyond your ability."

"So is that the way you look at things?"

Kid paused a moment to think about that question, his eyes tracking the movement of the pen as Rebecca started to tap it again against the surface of the paper. "I believe that not everyone is capable of doing everything equally, yes, and that pushing yourself beyond your limits is just as foolish as not rising up to them. Perfection cannot be reached without first understanding your own self."

_Perfection_. She jotted the word down before drawing an arrow from it to the word _symmetry_. "So is there a standard definition to the idea of perfection or can it vary from person to person? "

The pause was longer here as the teen seemed to visible struggle with answering the question. _Ah. Good._ Obviously this was a key point to touch on and she added the word _definition_ to the page. "It… can… vary," he finally forced out after a moment. "Obviously one can't… reach perfection if they are forcing themselves to fit another person's idea…" There was an obvious 'but' hanging off the end of his statement but Kid seemed fine with allowing it to just trail off as he looked discontented.

_Definition – what standard?_

"What are you expecting to be able to get from this?"

He had a prepared response for that. "I already told you. My ability to interact with my classmates is… impaired, currently. If I want to-"

"Yes, yes, I heard that before," Rebecca said, interrupting him. "And that's a nice sentiment but it really doesn't tell me anything. Is your goal to be more relaxed? To communicate better? Or is it to control your own temper?" She smiled before pointing the tip of the pen toward him. "It's a nice thought to simply be able to 'interact' better but if I don't know what part of your interaction is hampered then I don't know what to focus on."

"I… don't… know." Saying the words seemed to pain Kid and he looked down as he spoke. "I suppose… I need to let… things go. Things that don't truly matter."

And again she was impressed. Reaching that level of self-awareness was hard for adults and even rarer in a teen, even more so during a first session. _It shouldn't be surprising considering who he is_, Rebecca thought, and immediately caught herself. Reaper status or not he was still just a child and thinking that way… _Imposed believes and expectations._ She circled that as she smiled at him. _Is that really what's wrong, or is it just what you believe should be wrong?_

"Well. You should know that simply reaching out to contact me and showing up shows quite the commitment to the process, so I believe you're already well on your way to achieving your goals." Rebecca slipped the pen under the paper clasp and lowered the clipboard to her lap. "How often would you like to meet? Weekly, bi-weekly, monthly-"

"I thought that we had to meet weekly," Kid said, interrupting her. She just shook her head.

"This process is entirely up to you. You could decide to never come back or you could decide that you want to see me every day. Of course," Rebecca said with a small smile, "both of those options are the extremes and most pick something in the middle. Between a week and two weeks is the standard time but we can do whatever you want. You're entirely in control here."

The idea almost seemed too much for him and for a moment Rebecca worried that Kid wouldn't be able to come up with a response to that. "… I would like to meet with you again," he finally said. "I… think that next week would be fine."

"Same time, same day?"

"… yes."

She stood up and walked over to the small desk set up in the corner of the room. Rebecca placed the clipboard down as she picked up one of her business cards. On the back she scrawled out the date of their next appointment before turning back to hand it to Kid. He had stood as well and was waiting for her, hands held awkwardly in front of him. "Here," she said as she handed him the card. "And don't be afraid to call me if you need anything before then. I'm here for you whenever you need me."

He nodded thoughtfully at that as he slipped the card into his pocket. "Thank you Rebecca," Kid said rather stiffly. For a moment he stood there staring at her before finally turning and leaving.

As the door shut behind him the therapist let out a low sigh. "Interesting… and not at all what I expected," she murmured thoughtfully. _Just what is going on in that head of yours Kid?_


	3. Session 2 and 3

This chapter is brought to you by crippling self-doubt and paranoia! No, but seriously, _THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH. _I have never had so much positive feedback. It really is helping a _lot_ with this story.

* * *

"So tell me about your family."

Kid had been sitting rather neatly in his chair, back slumped forward just slightly so that his elbows could rest on his knees. His hands were held before him, steepled and with his forefingers pressed to his lips. Very calm, very collected, but when he heard _that_ question the entire image seemed to crackle for a moment. She could see the edges of his nails turn white as he put more pressure on them, and his intake of breath quickened ever so slightly-

"There's not much to tell." The teen lowered his hands and leaned back in the chair. "There is my Father and that's all." Rebecca noted how he referred to him – no appellations, just _Father_. "I'm sure you could learn plenty about him on your own."

"But it still wouldn't be what you thought was important," she pointed out, but it was clear that subject was off-limits for now. "All right, but what about your mother?"

"I don't have a mother."

Rebecca's hand jerked and the pen slashed an ugly blue line across the page. _Well that's not very professional_, she thought with a small moue before looking up at the teen. "What do you mean, you don't have a mother?" she repeated, and despite herself she couldn't keep the small laugh out of her voice. "Everyone has a mother."

"I don't." He said the words flatly and any humor Rebecca had been finding in the situation immediately evaporated.

"Even if your mother hasn't been _around_ you still must have one. Surely Lord Death has-"

"No," Kid said firmly. "No."

Rebecca nodded but still noted the flicker of doubt that crossed his features. "… all right. Let's talk about something else."

* * *

It was 8.05 and there was no sign of Kid. Rebecca sighed and cast one final glance at the clock before giving up and getting up. For all his talk of symmetry and perfection she knew there was no way he would show up _late_ and, truthfully, she was surprised he had even gone twice. The lack of forewarning fit him perfectly – so to speak – as well; informing her that he was done would have be an _admittance_ of failure, something that wouldn't match up with his own perception of the world.

"Oh well," she said softly. She carefully slipped the papers jotted full of notes into a folder and pressed a red sticker down to seal it shut. "I really think you would have done well Kid… you should have just given yourself a chance."

* * *

"You're late."

Rebecca blinked and stared blankly at the figure seated in the haphazardly arranged discussion area. Kid kept his gaze level with hers as he stared back, forefingers tapping together slowly as he held his hands before him. She said nothing as she glanced over at the clock – 8.14 – before looking back at him. _Late? I'm late._

"I'm… sorry but I'm afraid we don't have an appointment today," she said slowly. As she spoke Rebecca glanced down at the files in her hand. _Johnson, Riordan, Kelley…_ Lori had pulled out all the files for the clients she would be meeting with today and Kid wasn't among them. Of course, there wasn't going to be a file labeled "Kid, Death"; as per Lord Death's instructors Rebecca had filed everything related to the reaper under the pseudonym of Torrence Baker. _But, no, not even a Baker here._ "We had a meeting last week that you didn't show up for…"

"No," he said rather simply. "We had scheduled to meet two weeks later. You must have simply gotten confused."

Rebecca narrowed her eyes as she looked at Kid. It was fairly obvious to her what he was doing; deny the previous appointment and claim that the mix-up had happened on her end. A refusal to accept responsible made it so that he hadn't done anything wrong and, by that logic, had maintained his 'perfect' persona. "Kid…"

But it wasn't even like she would really gain anything by forcing him to acknowledge this. Of course feeding into his deluded world perception wasn't going to help him either, but Rebecca couldn't quite justify arguing against his reasoning for coming back to see her. "… I have an appointment at nine," she finally settled on – the subject of who bore the responsibility for their missed session was easily glossed over. "So we won't be able to meet for long. But I won't charge for this meeting."

Which was fair considering that she had billed Lord Death for the scheduled, but missed, appointment.

"Let me get some paper," she said and Kid nodded. Rebecca turned and walked back into her office, sighing as she did. She placed the files in her hand down on the desk before crouching down in front of the metal filing cabinet in the corner. _8.18 and now I'm going to have no time to get some coffee and get ready for any other patient,_ she thought as she rooted through the bottom drawer for Kid's file. _This is just going to set my whole day off._ There was a jolt of irritation as her fingers closed around the sealed file, but Rebecca just bit down on the inside of her lip to keep from frowning. Yes, of course this was going to be an inconvenience – walk-in's always _were_ – but they were also the patients that needed her the most.

_He came back to see you. That's the most important part._

Papers, pen, and clipboard – once all were in hand she headed back into the outer office. Kid was still sitting in the battered chair and he was staring at her intently as Rebecca let the door shut gently behind her. She took a moment to glance around the room and take stock of everything. It wasn't that she wasn't a neat person – one look inside her office would be enough to convince anyway that was she, perhaps, even a touch _anal_ – but it didn't show out here. Most likely because sterile environments didn't feel conducive to the mental healing process, but the fact that most of her clientele was under the age of twelve didn't help.

_Doesn't that bother him?_ She looked at Kid curiously as she took her seat across from him. _I'm sure… though I suppose he's just learned to ignore it while here._ "So what would you like to talk about?"

"I start school again next week." He kept his gaze level with hers but Rebecca noticed how Kid's hands lowered and twined together, his right hand pulling at the skin of his left. "It's already been a month. I can't waste any more time and there's no point avoiding the inevitable. I need to go back and I might as well start now."

"Wasting time?" Rebecca asked. "How exactly have you been wasting time? By just not going to school or by coming to see me?"

"I- no, that's not…" His eyes lowered for a moment as the edges of Kid's mouth pulled back into a small frown. "That's not what I meant. But just waiting until I'm… better-" Rebecca half-expected him to air-quote the word but all the reaper did was let his eyes roll _ever_ so slightly. "-if I did that then I could end up waiting forever before I return. It's not just going to suddenly become easier overnight."

"No, I don't think it is," she said in agreement. Rebecca lowered her eyes to the paper and pressed her teeth into her lower lip as she thought. If nothing else Kid was full of contradictions; he could see that avoiding something would only make dealing with it harder later, and yet he seemed perfectly fine with creating excuses to push responsibility of a situation onto another person. _Oh, now I'm just being overly harsh_, she thought, chiding herself, but Rebecca still jotted a few notes down. _Who takes responsibility?_ "So what does this mean for you?"

"School starts at seven. I won't be able to see you in the mornings anymore."

"No, I don't think that would be possible." Meeting at eight had only been due to Lord Death's specific requests; Rebecca couldn't imagine trying to fit him in even _earlier_. She looked up from her paper and tapped the pen against the page. "So what does that mean? When do you want to see me if you can't in the morning?"

"Well, I thought… we could still meet at eight." There was a small pause. "… at night."

Rebecca didn't even bother trying to hide her look of utter disbelief at the idea. The therapist lowered the clipboard as she stared at him. "Eight at night?" she repeated and the corner of Kid's mouth started to pull up into a grimace. "You want me to stay in the office until past nine just so that you can meet at eight? Why eight? School can't go that long."

"It ends at three." Kid's brow furrowed at the thought and Rebecca saw how the fingers of his right hand started to dig into the back of his left. "It starts at seven and ends at three. Such ugly numbers… why would anyone pick those? Why couldn't it start an hour later? Why would my Father decide that?"

"Twenty-seven is my favorite number," she said idly, and when Kid turned to frown at her Rebecca just shrugged. "I like it. It's nine three times, or three cubed."

"… that's nice?" Rebecca laughed at just how confused Kid sounded – _at least he's focusing on that instead of being upset now!_

"My point is that just because you think those numbers are ugly doesn't mean that everyone else would feel the same way. And besides, couldn't you just look at it as lasting for eight hours?" Rebecca asked rather pointedly. "If you're so stuck on the numbers then just find a new way to view them so that it doesn't upset you."

"I…" Kid looked down, clearly unsure how to respond. She smiled softly and made another note – _Work on refocusing the problem._

"It's okay. We can meet at eight Kid," she said gently. "But you have to realize that I'll be going out of my way for that. If we make an appointment at that time and you don't show up then I'm not sure I'm going to want to keep on trying to help you." He at least had the decency to flush at that, but Kid still nodded. "Good. We don't have a lot of time left today but is there anything else…?"

"… What's your family like?"

The question caught her off-guard and Rebecca immediately frowned as she stared at him suspiciously. Years of conditioning kicked in and it took her a moment to realize he probably meant it innocently enough. It wasn't uncommon for patients to repeat questions back, especially when they had trouble answering it initially.

But it didn't make it any more comfortable.

"My family…" She took a deep breath before smiling at Kid again. "My family isn't really that interesting. I really don't think you'd want to hear about them."

"I want to." Kid looked up at Rebecca and, after a moment, added: "Please?"

_Well, since you asked so nicely…_ "I… have a mother and a father. And an older brother. And that's about it."

"Do they live in Death City with you?"

"… no. My parents live out in Seattle and my brother lives somewhere on the East Coast."

"Somewhere?" Rebecca frowned at Kid, annoyed that he had picked up on that. He just smiled back, seeming oblivious to her irritation.

"Yes. I know he was in Connecticut at one point but I'm fairly certain he's moved since then. We don't talk that much. Not lately."

The number one rule of a session – do not let it become about _you_. It was a rather tempting rookie mistake to think that sharing personal experiences would help the bonding process and Rebecca knew she was guilty of stepping into the territory in some of her earlier years. All it really did, though, was draw the focus away from the patient and what _they_ needed. One look at Kid's expression let her know that she had just slipped up again; now it wasn't about what he needed and now it was about what had happened in her past. _If he asks another question about this…_

"I was wrong," he said quietly and she blinked. "I do have other family besides my Father."

"… oh?"

"Liz and Patti. My weapons."

_Oh. _Rebecca made a note of that as she smiled at Kid. "Have you told them this?" He just shook his head as he glanced over at the clock. _8.59._

"I suppose I should." Kid let out a short sigh as he started to stand. "Thank you Rebecca. I'll see you in two weeks… right?"

"Right Kid. Two weeks."


	4. Session 6 and 7

I could bore you with my excuses as to why it's taken so long for this chapter to come out, but that's not why you're here. You're here because you want to read the next chapter. So, without further ado…

* * *

"… and that's not even starting on _Black Star._" Kid's eyes seemed to flash, the vivid yellow darkening to gold as he shook his head in disgust. "How could someone like have even been allowed into the academy? He's disruptive, he's loud and chaotic, he can't even manage to work well enough with his partner to get one kishin soul and yet my father treats him like he's one of his best students! He, he should be on some sort of probationary stay or he should have been kicked out when it became apparent that he was just going to be a waste of effort."

"Black Star?" Rebecca frowned when she heard that name and bit her lower lip softly as she paged back through her notes. It wasn't the first time the young reaper had mentioned that name and she knew that something important had happened involving the other teen. Nodding while listening to Kid's ranting – because, undignified or not, that was what he was doing – she quickly scanned what she had scribbled down several sessions ago. _Black Star, Black Star…_

"He was one of the students that was given the remedial lesson assignment of fighting Dr. Stein." She blinked and looked up from the notes. Kid's only response was a curt nod and a slight curl of his lower lip and if Rebecca didn't know any better, if she hadn't been familiar with the reaper, she would have thought he was _sneering_. "It seems like the academy is taking steps to address his, um, academic difficulties then."

"That's not addressing anything," he snapped. "That's throwing a group of children to fight against a mad man without giving them any of the information they would need, not the mention the ridiculous affair with Professor Sid."

It was their sixth session together and things have been moving forward. Slowly and shakily, but Rebecca could notice small shifts in Kid's behavior. He had managed to stick with the therapy for one, and stay at the academy for another, though he seemed to be unable to find anything but negative things to say about both the students and teachers and the assignments. It was getting almost exhausting to listen to and had long since become overly repetitive: Black Star was full of himself, Tsubaki was too quiet, Soul was a slacker, Maka couldn't get her nose out of a book, the classes were too easy and too complicated all at once…

It was _good_ that he was getting it out, she knew that, but the never ending list of negativity was almost worrying. For the life of her Rebecca couldn't figure out why the young reaper was forcing himself through a process he clearly loathed and hated. If attending the academy was causing this level of stress then certainly there were better ways for him to learn. That didn't even seem to be a concern for Kid, something he kept on trying to make abundantly clear – he already _knew_ everything, he was a _reaper_, what did they expect to be able to _teach_ him? _Maybe for the social interaction?_ Except everyone that came within five feet of the teen was wrong in some way.

_I wonder what he actually thinks about me,_ she thought idly as she chewed on the end of her pen. _I'm probably too nosy for asking all the questions that I do._

"Kid," Rebecca said slowly, pen tapping against the paper. "What exactly were you expecting to find when you started at the academy?"

"I… I don't know. Students that actually listened to their teachers and teachers that made sense and gave lectures that didn't revolve around the best ways to dissect living creatures?" She nodded some at that.

_Fair enough expectations._ Her mouth twitched into a smile as she looked up at the irate teen. "Yeah, but it's a school run by your father. His eccentricities are more than well known… why wouldn't you have expected to find the same sort of behavior at an institution that he had designed himself?"

Kid paused at that and she watched as he grit his teeth and stared down at the floor. His hands were in front of him, one holding the other, and the fingers of his right hand slowly started to twist his left, pulling and pinching at the skin. "I…" He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. "I… fully expected my Father's… eccentricities-" He grimaced as he said that, making it obvious that it wasn't the word he wanted. "-To be… a basis of student's academic career."

"So then, if you were expecting it, why-?"

"Because it doesn't make any sense!" Kid's eyes snapped open, too wide and too bright, and he leaned forward, elbows resting against his knees. "Because I don't…" And then he faltered, brow knotting first in confusion and then in shame. "… I don't understand. I don't understand what he's thinking or why he thinks that this would be the best way for anyone to learn."

"Well it's more than under-"

"And I don't understand why he would put the students in such dangerous situations," the reaper said, words coming out in a rush as he cut Rebecca off. "Of course the academy isn't going to be safe, it's a place to learn how to fight kishin eggs, but there's a difference between preparation and gross negligence. Professor Stein is a dangerous person and yet he's left in charge of children. He nearly killed Black Star and if he hadn't been interrupted I'm sure Stein would have… gutted Maka in front of Soul. It wasn't a game or a test to him, it was a fight that he was taking too far."

"You weren't there Kid," she tried to gently remind him. "You can't know for sure what would or wouldn't have happened."

"No, I can't," he said, practically snapping the words at her. "But neither can Father. He's not all knowing and all seeing, once he puts something into play he can't just wave a hand and have it magically stop or, or make it better! He's leaving himself at the whims of others, and…"

Rebecca frowned as she watched Kid try to brokenly explain himself. There was a torrent of emotion that was just waiting to burst forth but the teen was still trying to remain calm and composed.

"… Stein killed Sid. He murdered him and turned him into a zombie and my father did nothing to him except make him a teacher at the academy. My father rewards murderers and psychopaths with jobs and benefits."

"Kid," Rebecca said, sounding more than a little uneasy. She had known when she had taken the job that some of what she was going to hear wouldn't be _pleasant_, and the confidentiality wavers Lord Death had made her sign ensured that she would stay _quiet_, but this was starting to push what she was comfortable with. Lord Death was a figure that near everyone in the town in the town looked up to; it wasn't possible that he was doing the things that Kid was claiming. "I, I'm sure that there's part of the situation that you're just not aware of yet. Have you talked to your father about this?"

"He would just laugh and brush my concerns off and tell me that there was nothing to worry about," the teen said, tone almost bitter. At that Rebecca relaxed, breathing out a small sigh of relief as she smiled at the reaper.

"Then how can you say things like this if you haven't even bothered to-"

"Sid was Black Star's father." Kid immediately shook his head. "He raised him when he was brought here to the academy. I… looked at his personal file, I wanted to know more about him, and I saw that." She could still hear the anger and frustration in his tone but now it was hidden under a layer of confusion. "My father's idea of punishment was to have him go and fight his recently deceased father."

He was staring at her, obviously waiting for her to say how that was some sort of misunderstanding and there must have been a good reason that they just didn't get for Lord Death to do so, but Rebecca couldn't bring herself to say those words. Her own mind was scrambling for any possible justification for those actions but there was nothing. "Maybe," she said softly, looking down at her paper. "Maybe Lord Death…" _Didn't know? Wasn't thinking?_

"... Maybe, for Black Star, that was the best way to work through the loss of his father figure," Rebecca said gently. "I don't disagree that the act sounds horrible but from the way you've described him I doubt Black Star suffered any by doing this. It's something that I don't understand and you might not understand but maybe Lord Death did. I'm sure he was just doing what was best."

"Yes," Kid said after a long pause. "I'm sure that's all he ever does. Just what's… best."

"You could always ask him," Rebecca reminded him. "And he might not be brushing your concerns off purposefully. He's your father. No parent wants to think of their child as being adult enough to talk seriously with. You just to let him know that this is something important to you."

* * *

Their next session was cancelled, though Kid had contacted her in advance to let her know. It had something to do with an attack or an injury or an assignment – the therapist really didn't understand everything he was trying to say but she doubted that the specifics were important. All that really mattered was that he was taking the time out to inform her that he wouldn't be there and that he would reschedule as soon as things started to calm down at the academy.

Rebecca felt fairly certain that he was telling the truth and that he would return.

* * *

"The Uncanny Sword was Tsubaki's brother."

Rebecca paused in her writing and glanced up at the reaper. It had been several weeks since their last session but she could still remember their topic of discussion vividly. She always tried not to take patient's problems home with her – it always caused nothing but more worry and sleepless nights – but that had been something the therapist hadn't been able to shake. To think that Lord Death, the founder of the city, could be so cruel as to force a child to fight their own _father_…

"Did you ask him why?"

"Not exactly." He glanced to the side. "It was just something Stein said. Something about… this being something that she needed to do." Kid sighed. "But Liz said she could never fight Patti. She said she couldn't even think about living without her."

"Different people deal with situations differently. And Liz and Patti are closer than Tsubaki was with her brother. Maybe you should try asking her," Rebecca said after a short pause. "You would probably learn more that way too."

"Maybe. Maybe it's just something that I would need a family to understand." The teen narrowed his eyes at that. "But I don't have one, not really. So I never will."

Rebecca wanted to point out that he did, he had even said so himself, but she doubted it would have mattered much to the reaper.


	5. Session 9

O-oh. Oops?

* * *

"We're going to do something a little different this time."

Rebecca smiled warmly as Kid gave her a rather suspicious look. She didn't really blame him; sudden change didn't exactly seem to be the reaper's strong suit. At least not in personal or social situations and those were the two areas she was trying to deal with. She knew that his time spent at the academy dealt with situations outside of that realm, but the less she knew about that the more comfortable the therapist felt.

The monsters that the students at the academy faced were things that the citizens of Death City _knew_ about but never really thought about. Kishins, witches, immortals – Over the past several weeks Rebecca had learned more about them than she care and, as far as she was concerned, the less they talked about them the better.

"Different?" he repeated, nose wrinkling just a bit. She nodded and unclipped a sheet of paper, placing it on the small table before the reaper. Rebecca placed a pen beside it as well and smiled again. "I thought that therapy was all about… talking."

"Some forms of therapy are," she said, nodding in agreement. "But it's not the only form. It's actually not even what I generally do…" And here she trailed off, biting down on the corner of her mouth as she tried to keep from grimacing. _Professional boundaries._ If only he didn't act so damn adult, but Rebecca knew that was just an excuse and a flimsy one at that. Child or not, she wasn't supposed to be talking to him like he was her _friend_. "And since we've spent so long just talking with each other I figured that now might be a good time to mix it up a little."

Which was true but not the entire truth. She had noticed that his progress had slowed to a crawl and that the reaper just kept on rehashing the same tired old stories and complaints. Rebecca was certain that it was at least cathartic for him to have a place to go to release all his pent up frustrations – because, of course, doing that with any of his classmates would have just been a sign of his _imperfection_ – so she had let it slide, but eight sessions of nothing more than bitching were eight sessions too many.

_And you're not supposed to think things like that either._ Her mouth curled into a warm smile to hide her internally frustrations. _Bitching? He's opening up._

"I want you to draw me a picture," Rebecca said slowly, gesturing to the tools she had placed before Kid. Before he could question she added: "Of anything. Whatever you want to draw."

Kid looked at her dubiously before picking up the pen. He hesitated, holding it over the paper, before shaking his head. "Where's the other paper?"

"Other paper?"

"Yes. In case I make a mistake."

"There is no other paper."

He blinked, looked down at the sheet before him, and looked back up at her. For a moment Rebecca could see the confusion in his expression, the lack of understanding, before her words sank in. Slowly his eyes widened and he looked back at the paper before glancing at the pen. "Well, then, is there a pencil I can use?"

"No pencil. Just the pen."

Kid's mouth twitched and Rebecca noted the first signs of panic flicker over his expression. His hand tightened around the pen, knuckles turning white, and with what seemed like a herculean amount of effort the reaper slowly lowered his hand down to the paper. Before he could actually touch the tip of the pen to the sheet in front of him he shook his head again and took a deep breath. "This can't possibly be the only piece of paper you have," he said flatly. "You have more on the clipboard."

"Yes, I do," Rebecca said in agreement. "But this is for me to take notes on. And the exercise is for you to use only one piece of paper."

"If you expect me to do that then I'm going to need a pencil," he said, expression starting to turn a bit ugly. "There's no way I could possibly draw anything with this. It… it's not possible. And it's not going to happen."

"Except it is going to happen," Rebecca said gently. "I don't have any pencils that you can use and I'd really like to have something drawn by you. It doesn't have to be anything fancy, just whatever you feel like drawing." She smiled, trying to be as reassuring as possible, as her own pen tapped against the edge of her clipboard. She had expected this to be Kid's reaction, or for him to respond similarly. From their first session she had noted his rather peculiar obsession with symmetry and perfection and knew that he suffered from a rather severe case of obsessive-compulsive disorder. That, at least, was what Lord Death had told her when they had discussed the younger reaper's treatment. Though she had noted a few displays of the odd behavior nothing _severe_ had ever seemed to manifest. Which meant that there was the possibility that the Grim Reaper was simply exaggerating the condition out of concern for his son…

Or that Death the Kid was just learning how to suppress the compulsive tendencies for the hour that they spent together.

Certain things obviously set him off – symmetry, everything revolved around that word, and _perfection. _Maybe the test was a little cruel but she was curious how he was going to respond. To leave the paper blank would be an admittance of failure – he could he ever say that he _couldn't_ – but if he placed the pen down then suddenly it would no longer be perfect. Even worse than that, it seemed doubtful he would be able to make the image symmetrical, and Rebecca wondered which one would be worse for him.

Kid stared down at the paper, the pen hovering over the surface as he swallowed hard. The teen ran his tongue out along his lips, licking them nervously as he kept on lowering his hand before abruptly pulling it up again. "There… there really is nothing that I want to draw," he mumbled, keeping his gaze low. Rebecca just laughed lightly at that as she leaned back in her chair.

"Are you sure Kid?" Rebecca pulled out another blank piece of paper and placed it on the table, this time in front of herself. "How about we make a trade? I'll draw something for you if you draw something for me."

The thought seemed to offer some sense of relief to the teen and he nodded. Rebecca stared levelly at Kid, meeting his gaze when he dragged his eyes up from the sheet before him, and after a long moment she realized that he expected her to go first. There was a small stretch of awkward silence between before he looked to the side. "Well… are you going to…?"

"All right Kid," Rebecca murmured, and she looked down at her own blank paper. _Now what the hell am I going to draw?_ She pressed her pen to the paper and jerked it across, creating a rather shaky slash. _Hmm. _She curved it around before drawing a bulb-like shape below it. It was a poor attempt at a vase and the therapist had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing at how poorly done it was. "I never said I was an artist," she remarked as she looked up at Kid.

He was staring intently at the drawing, hands pulling at the fabric of his pants as watched. Curious, Rebecca drew another jagged line, a poor attempt at the stem of a flower, and his grip tightened. Kid looked almost pained as he watched her continued to scratch out her drawing. She added a second line before started to haphazardly sketch out the petals and with that he actually reached out, grabbing her hand to stop her.

"You… you're not…" Kid drew his hand back slowly, though he kept on jerking it forward as if to grab her again. "You're not doing it _right_."

"I'm not?" she asked, forcing herself to sound perplexed. "I'm just drawing a picture. I'm not a very good artist though."

"Not a good artist?" the reaper repeated, sounding incredulous. "You're terrible! That thing is an abomination! You've absolutely ruined that paper. The only way you could have possibly done any worse would be if you tried to draw this with your eyes closed." Rebecca narrowed her eyes, feeling just a touch insulted at what Kid was saying. He looked back at the drawing and snorted. "No, I change my mind. If you had kept your eyes shut you probably would have done better."

"I'm flattered," she said flatly. Rebecca knew she shouldn't have been taking what Kid said personally – it was the OCD talking, not the reaper – but she still felt a surge of irritation at his words. "I would love to see your attempt to do better." And without saying anything else the teen snatched the paper from her and started to try to furiously fix it.

For about five seconds.

Kid drew one line in an attempt to cover up the shaky scratch mark that Rebecca had made for the stem before pulling himself back. He started at the paper in horror before leaning over and scribbling, etching line over line as he tried to hide his previous mistakes. His attempts were in vain and only ended up making the picture look incredibly uneven; one half of the flower was drawn with heavier and thicker lines, making it look as if the flower was tilting over. The teen shook his head and tried to replicate the effect on the other side. "No, no…"

Rebecca's irritation vanished as she noticed the panicked look that was flickering over Kid's face. "Kid?" she said hesitantly, and when the teen failed to respond she reached out to place a hand over his. "Kid, I think you've-"

"NO!" He jerked back and there was a sickening tear as Kid ripped the pen through the paper. His eyes opened wide and his mouth widened in a look of horror. There was an awful stretch of silence between them before he drew back, lips pulling over his teeth, and the reaper grabbed the paper to finish tearing it in half. "I can't believe I worked on that! What a horrible disgusting piece of garbage!"

"Kid," Rebecca found herself saying again, and now she found herself completely worried. The reaper just shook his head as he continued to tear the paper, folding it carefully before ripping it into tiny equal-sized pieces.

"Absolute garbage! And I'm garbage for working on it! Absolutely worthless garbage for lowering myself to work on such a useless abomination!"

"Kid, really, it-"

"How could I ever possibly take over for my father if I can't even do something as simple as _this_," he hissed, dropping the paper shreds onto the table. "I'm worthless. I'm worthless for being here. Only someone ridiculously weak would lower themselves to coming to a place like this."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "Kid," she said again, her voice taking on a slight growl. _It's not personal. He's not meaning these things to be personal. This is just a symptom of his illness. This is not personal!_ "Kid, you need to calm down. Your picture wasn't bad," she said, trying to make her voice sound calming. "You were trying to fix something that was already unsalvageable. I'm a therapist, not an artist." And she cracked a smile at that, trying to ease the mood.

"Really?" he snapped back, eyes narrowing as he glared at her. "Your skills at both seem to be on par. Frankly I'm amazed you manage to even feed yourself-"

The rest of his statement was cut off by a loud smack. Rebecca's eyes widened and she found herself staring at him while breathing hard. Her hand hurt and he was staring back in confusion as an angry red mark started to form on his cheek. It took shape slowly, four finger-shaped bruises curling back to his ear, and her anger and frustration was replaced with confusion. _What? What happened?_

Oh. She knew what had happened.

She had slapped him.

There was nothing she could say that would possibly make what had just happened right. Kid was having a break down and Rebecca's response had been to physical harm him. His panic attack – because that really was what it had been – didn't matter; she had _hit_ him. She had _hit_ a patient. The therapist swallowed hard and opened her mouth to speak, though nothing came out.

"… I… think I should go." Kid blinked and nodded stiffly as he pushed himself to his feet. She nodded, forcing herself to meet his gaze. It was the least that she owed him and she refused to let herself look away.

"Yes, that might be best," Rebecca said quietly. The sound of the slap was still ringing through her ears and she doubted she would ever forget it. _How could I have done that? How could I have-_

"I'll see you next week." Kid nodded stiffly and walked himself from the room as she blinked, brow knitting together in confusion.

_You'll… you'll see me again next week._

… _what?_


	6. Session 10

So, who wants to know why this was so late? The long and short of it is: I got a job. I got a job working at a psychiatric hospital, actually, and after spending eight hours a day working with patients I found myself less than eager to write about them. Or write in general. A lot of the delay came out of laziness, though, and for that I apologize.

* * *

The bag thumping down on the table startled Rebecca and she blinked before looking up. A rather cheery-looking red head was there and she was smiling, though the expression faded when she saw just how confused and _lost_ the brunette looked. "Shit Bec, who died?" she cracked as she sat down, and almost immediately grimaced. "Sorry, bad word choice. What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Rebecca repeated the word and sighed as she leaned back in her chair. The sun was beating down on the outdoor café table and she could feel her skin starting to turn pink. _The shadow from the umbrella will make the tan lines unsymmetrical_, she thought, and rolled her eyes at that. "Nothing really. I've just been… thinking."

She had just been doing too much thinking.

"Hmm?" The red head looked at her expectantly and all Rebecca could do was shrug her shoulders a bit helplessly.

"I'm just – thinking." Which was true. More than true, really; the therapist felt like her head hadn't stopped pouring in the thoughts since the _incident_ and they were just going in haphazard circles now, the beginning of each one tripping over the end of the last. The problem – the real problem – was-

"About what?"

_And ding ding ding? There's our eighty-thousand dollar question! Come on down Becky and see if you can answer it for the win!_ The tone of the thought distressed her more than the thought itself. The voice was one she had heard a long time ago and had struggled to forget. _Had_ forgotten up until now and here in was, laughing right in her face. _Why? Who? Why are you in my head…?_

Rebecca looked down, cold-pale hands clutching her coffee cup tightly, and shook her head. "I didn't…" Her voice trailed off for just a moment and then she looked back at her friend. "Have you ever done something? Something so… so _bad_, something to someone else and…" The brunette's voice trailed off again and it looked like she was floundering. "… What do you do?"

If the red head noticed the confusion and self-doubt that was filtering through Rebecca's naked expression and tone she did a damn fine job of hiding it. All she did was smile – too bright and too wide but still a smile – and nod. "All you can try to do is make up for it and move forward. Past is past, after all."

* * *

He came back, even though they had no set appointment, and in one week, not two. It was just barely four and Rebecca guessed that he had cut over immediately after the end of the school day or maybe he hadn't even gone at all. Both seemed equally likely but the therapist never found out which one it was; she had never bothered to ask.

She didn't deserve to ask.

All Rebecca knew – and all she could marvel at – was that he had _come back._ And at _now_, at three fifty seven in the afternoon, and seven was hideous and so was three (it wasn't as bad though and five, at least, five was half of ten so it was _almost_ bearable) and added together they were fifteen and there was nothing pretty or symmetrical about the number or about the time. It was just ugly and the reaper was acting like he didn't notice.

The brunette had a four fifteen appointment but that could be cancelled. _Easily._ What wasn't so easy to do was stepping out of the safe zone in her office to face Kid. All it would take was the truth and he would be gone and most likely this time it would be for good. And honestly, wasn't that the best for all involved? He needed help, serious help, and she just wasn't going to be able to provide it for him.

Rebecca reached out and pressed the button down on her desk. "… Cancel my next appointment." She cut the intercom off, flipping the small switch, to avoid the inevitable question of 'why' that her secretary would ask after that. The therapist would have felt the urge to answer it but there was no answer. There was no why.

Kid's file had been stashed away in her desk and a few of the pages were stained from a night that Rebecca would rather not remember. It had just been her and a man named Jack – Daniels was his last name – and she had torn herself _apart_ looking through his files. There must have been something she had missed, some glaringly obvious key point to make her go 'eureka' and solve the mystery that was Death the Kid. The brunette had monumentally fucked _up_ and there had to be a reason why. Ineptitude and poor judgment, that couldn't possibly have been the answer.

Except there was nothing.

File, clipboard, and pen were in hand. Rebecca took a deep breath before stepping out of the safety of her office and stood face to face with the patient she had slapped. Or something close to face to face; Kid was sitting on one of the overstuffed chairs and his hand was on the armrest, fingers tapping along the worn surface. His eyes were scanning along the covers of the magazines she kept on the side table and periodically he would scowl, eyes narrowing and head shaking before starting to tap his fingers again.

_What…?_ She would have questioned it but as long as he wasn't focused on her she felt safe.

"It's the words." Rebecca blinked and dragged her gaze away from the magazines to meet the reaper's gaze. "The sentences. I just like them to be even. The words have to be even or else I have to rework them."

And even though this made absolutely no sense to her – just how could a sentence possibly be _even_? – the brunette just nodded. Her fingers twitched and she glanced down at the file in her hand. This was important and she knew she needed to document it, probably with some vague and cute quip like 'surrounding restructuring to suit own needs', but that really would mean nothing in the long run. And after what she had done Rebecca barely felt she was even allowed in the same room as Kid, let alone writing down comments about his various eccentricities.

She took a seat and nodded a second time. The pen still laid flat against her paper as she waited for him to talk again – she had no _right_ and that was going to make this difficult. She also had no right to deny him or turn him away and so there she sat, ready, willing… and waiting.

Kid stared back, fingers still tapping out their incomprehensible rhythm. For one tense moment it seemed like nothing would happen and they would just spend one uncomfortable hour looking at each other. He sighed, though, and pulled his hand back into his lap. "I tried doing what you suggested."

"What I…?" Rebecca frowned as she tried to remember what it had been that she had told him. What advice she could have possibly given that would have been _useful_ and not just horribly. Kid smiled at her confusion.

"To try to look at things differently. To let myself see things in a differently light or from different ways instead of obsessing over that way I want them." The small smile that was stretched across his lips faded a bit, not entirely gone but not as wide as it had been before. "It hasn't worked out completely and it's… really failed more times than it's worked but sometimes it does. And I think it might work more often in the future if I continue to practice it."

She laughed and covered it up as a cough, hand pressed against her mouth as Rebecca looked down at the blank paper in her lap. _A piece of worthless advice I spout off because I have nothing better to say and he starts obsessing over it and it actually helps?_ It upset her for reasons she couldn't quite put a finger on, though it probably had to do with the fact that when she had really _tried_ to help she had just wound up hurting him.

"I'm glad that's working for you." Rebecca said the words softly as she nodded and looked back up at him. "If you do continue to work at it I'm sure it'll help you control your compulsive urges. You've been working hard to help improve yourself." And it seemed like everything he had done could have easily been done with her help.

Self-doubt was a horrible thing and it easily clawed away at the small about of confidence and faith she had built up in herself during her short time practicing. Every success was overshadowed by her one glaring failure and _this is such a bad idea I shouldn't even be here. _Rebecca's own thoughts were so loud and so confusing that, for one moment, she missed completely that Kid was still talking and found herself just staring blankly as he looked back at her, obviously waiting expectantly for her response.

"I… I'm sorry," the brunette mumbled, and she picked up the pen in a vain attempt to look like she was paying attention. "What were you saying?"

"I was looking into something at the library a few days ago and the librarian said something to me." The reaper's tone turned thoughtful. "He mentioned something about being able to do anything for someone in Lord Death's family."

And she stared back again, feeling completely at a loss at to the significance of that. _So what? He mentioned your father's family. So. What?_

"I don't-"

"Death Scythe is Maka's father." And now Rebecca was officially Lost and she put the pen back down. It seemed like Kid was working out his thoughts out loud and the best – and really only – thing she could do for him would be to just listen.

"Death Scythe – or, really, I guess I should call him Spirit – is her father and her mother is a woman named Kami and her mother is gone and yet Maka loves her mother more than her father." His eyes narrowed a bit, more out of confusion than anything else, and he frowned. "She has a father who loves her completely and has shown time and again that he would be willing to do absolutely anything for her and yet she continues to put her all her face in the parent figure who can't even bother to stay around to raise her."

"If all human behavior made sense then I wouldn't have a job," Rebecca remarked softly. "There are multiple reasons why your friend Maka could act that way, most likely simply because she's too-" _Immature, unaware, childish_. "- young to realized just what her father is giving up for her."

She was expecting for Kid to argue but instead the reaper just nodded, eyes lighting up like she had just given him the Holy Grail. "Yes, yes, exactly," he said quickly, nodding rapidly in agreement. "She just- she just can't see. They're her parents so _she can't see_."

And Rebecca stared back in confusion, not quite grasping just what he was getting at.

"I think that's what caused Soul to come out here too. I think that one day he'll go back to New York to where his parents are and he'll be able to see that they weren't trying to hurt him, that his brother wasn't really overshadowing him." His voice had dropped off into a mumble and Kid looked to the side, staring at the stack of magazines again. The reaper's fingers started to tap against the arm of the sofa again, just for a moment, and then he sighed. "That's what happens. Children just can't see, just can't understand what their parents do for them, right? It takes time and perspective to understand it."

"I… suppose that's probably true in most cases…" The fear and almost paralyzing doubt had eased off a bit as Rebecca just looked at him in confusion. Out of everything she had prepared herself (which was a complete lie, she hadn't prepared herself at all for even seeing Kid again) for this just… wasn't one of them. To go from ranting and raving about symmetry and perfection and the irritating habits of his friends to the lack of understanding they had about the actions of their parents…? "But… Kid, why are you even talking about that? Did… something happen?"

There was a second moment of silence and he continued to look at the side before nodding. "I went to the library and the librarian mentioned my father's family."

"… I don't under-"

"His _family_." And Kid looked up at her, gold eyes burning angrily now. "Family! I'm his son, his only son, or at least that's what he's let me believe and that's all he told me. But he said family, family, he acted like I wasn't the first child or relative he had seen, he said _family_!"

Rebecca's mouth hung open slightly as she looked at him speechlessly. What could you even say to something like that? What was he even _talking_ about? The therapist felt she had a small idea about it but- but it didn't make sense. He was right; Lord Death only had one son and everyone knew that.

Right?

She swallowed hard and forced a small smile. "I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding," she said softly. "And if you ask your father about it he'll be able to explain everything to you."

"Are you sure?" Kid bit his lower lip for the smallest of moments and Rebecca's stomach turned at the action. It was so un_like_ him, so unrefined, and it made him look so young and _weak_. "If I go and talk to him, are you sure…?"

"He's your father Kid," Rebecca said, her voice becoming firmer. "And we just talked about that. Sometimes children just don't understand what their parents are doing, not at first, but in the end whatever the parents are doing is just for the benefit of their child. That's… that's all you really have to know."

_Really? _That might have been some of the worst logic she had ever given but Kid looked somewhat relieved as he nodded. "You're right. I'll talk to him and… I just probably don't understand. Thank you Miss Bras-… Thank you Rebecca."


	7. Nightmare

The nightmares started up again that night.

There was a saying in her line of work – "You have to be crazy to work with the crazy." - or something along those lines. One of the questions most commonly asked to her (or any other psychologist, really) was 'why'. Why did they pick this field, why did they decide on this line of work? It couldn't possibly be _easy_ to try to help balance out the 'dysfunctions' in other's lives… and it wasn't, it really wasn't. And while every professional would respond automatically with 'it's because I just want to help people', the truth was far bleaker.

The truth was that they were just as damaged themselves, and the only thing that separated them from the rest was that they had some way of 'dealing' with it that wasn't completely self-destructive.

One of the requirements at Rebecca's grad school was to attend six months of therapy and those were six of the worst months of Rebecca's life. There was a huge difference between being the note-taker and the note-takee and she hated feeling like she was being pinned under a microscope. Nothing exciting or earthshaking was ever brought up during any of the sessions and when they were finished she had walked away feeling annoyed by the time and money that had been wasted.

Just because nothing came up, though, didn't mean that there was nothing buried in the back of Rebecca's mind.

The dream – nightmare – was always the same and it the taste of reality, not of fiction. It played out like a memory warped and distorted with time but a memory all the same, one that made her shudder and cringe just like The Voice. Sometimes she even thought she heard The Voice in her dreams, but they were terrifying enough without hearing that.

There was a barn and it looked like it had seen better days or months or years. The pain had been long since worn away and the wood was battered and beaten to an ugly shade of grey. One of the doors hung crookedly off one hinge and was kept tied shut. Even with that measure in place it still swung about wildly in the wind and there was more than enough space for a small child to crawl through.

_Now Becky, _The Voice said, only now she just _respected_ the voice instead of _fearing_ it. _Never go into The Barn. It's old and falling apart and it's not safe for a little girl. And plus, there's nothing in there that would interest you._

True enough and she tried to obey (she was such a Good Girl then) but on this one day at this particular time she had heard a weak whinny coming from the battered building.

Most girls, and boys, love horses and a good number of that 'most' even adored them. From a young age Rebecca had kept herself apart from the crowd by hating the animals, viewing them as dirty beasts of burden. They smelled bad, they were loud and dangerous, and even as an adult she still refused to be around them. In the dream, though, and most likely during this stage of her life she felt no fear toward the animals. Hearing the pained noise made her step forward, determined to investigate.

The barn door swayed back and force in the wind, slamming shut rather loudly every few minutes. Rebecca reached out to steady it as she peered inside. There were no lights and most of the windows were grimed over with dirt, making the space inside appear to be a rather hazy shade of grey. As she continued to stare she blinked as her eyes started to slowly adjust. It had the effect of making her vision swim and for a moment the girl almost backed up, giving up on her crazy impulsive. But before she could there was another whiny, this one even weaker than before.

She slipped inside easily and wrinkled her nose at the smell, thick and heavy of dirt and decay. There was another moment of pause and unease and she was right there at the door – turning around and leaving would take just a moment and then The Voice would never have to know she was in here and she would still be a Good Girl. Just step back outside… but there was a _horse_ in here (and right now she didn't hate horses, right now she loved them) and it needed _help._

As Rebecca slowly stepped forward she began to make out a large shape in the middle of the barn. The hazy gray light cleared up enough to allow her to see definition and she gasped at the sight. There was a horse – a mare, she just knew it was a mare – standing there. She wore a too-tight halter, the leather straps digging into the skin of the poor beast, and taunt chains extended from either side to effectively hold the animal in place. Her front hooves shifted and pawed at the floor boards in front of her. Even from so far away the girl could see how torn up the wood was and just how badly chipped the horse's hooves were. _Poor girl…_

That wasn't even close to the worst of it. Rebecca stepped closer and cringed when she saw just what the mare was standing in. The chains held her in place and so the horse was standing more than hock-deep in her own waste. Even in the poor light she could also see just how thin she was – nothing more than skin and bones – and in several places her fur had been ripped out. The mare's back was also horribly swayed and even simply standing looked to be painful.

_Help me…_

The voice (it was no longer a whiny but a voice but just not The Voice) was desperate and pain-laced and Rebecca almost broke down just at that. _Of course, of course!_ she wanted to scream, but her voice had abandoned her. Instead she just tottered to the wall and pulled down one of the too-large shovels. It was awkward going but she dragged it over to the mare's side where she started to scoop up a pile of filth.

The mare _screamed _and Rebecca jerked back, horrified. Along with the muck that was being pulled away was the fur and skin of the horse's legs, leaving bare muscle and bone behind. Red blood seeped slowly from the wound, staining the remaining fur red, but the bone remained a distressingly bleached white color.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" The young child was too shocked to cry and she found her voice as she shouted out her apology at the mare. Rebecca allowed the shovel to clatter to the floor and she looked around desperately for something else to help the horse. Along the wall were several sets of grooming brushes and she stumbled over to them, thankful to see _something_ she could use. Something as soft and gentle as a brush couldn't possibly cause any damage.

She grabbed one and held it tightly against her chest as she tottered back to the mare. Rebecca looked up at the panicky and pained animal. "I'm going to help you," she whispered before placing the brush against her neck. The mare snorted and tried to step away, tried to toss her head, but the chains kept her in place. "I'm going to help you," the girl repeated as she pulled the brush down along the mare's fur.

The soft bristles tore bloodied lines and now the mare _did_ rear. The chains kept her head down as her front legs pulled up, and after a moment she came crashing down hard. The force caused her hooves to splinter and crack further and Rebecca stared at the bloodied brush, stared at her hooves, and just _screamed_ and _screamed_ before turning to run from the barn. Pain and tortured neighs followed her and the sound of the mare's agony bounced around in her head as she pushed the broken door open to bolt out into the sunlight.

_Help me. Help me. Help me._

* * *

The dream was still echoing in her mind when Rebecca's eyes snapped open, but the first thought was-

_The librarian had mentioned Lord Death's family._

A silly and, frankly, inconsequential statement that had been bounding about furiously, knock all other thoughts out of her mind. It wasn't even something that concerned her and yet she found herself worrying at it again and again. His family? What family. There was only Lord Death. And Kid.

The brunette groaned as she forced herself up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Wake up, get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, brush teeth – every action was done mechanically and Rebecca just stared out at the world through bleary eyes.

_The librarian had mentioned Lord Death's family._

_Why would he mention Lord Death's family?_

Their last appointment had been cancelled, not by Kid but by Rebecca herself. The thought of having to see him again made her stomach clench up and an overwhelming sense of guilt washed over her, both at what she had _done_ and at how she _felt_. On top of all of that was a feeling of unease, like she was blindfolded on the edge of a precipice. The wrong step would send her plummeting to the ground and she wasn't even allowed to _see_ what was in front of her.

_The librarian had mentioned Lord Death's family._

_I wonder if he had asked his father._

And instantly Rebecca began to hope fervently that the young reaper had not. If Kid had then Rebecca was certain that he would tell Lord Death just where he had heard the rumor from, and if he did _that_ then she was certain that the academy would be in need of a new librarian.

* * *

She was late getting to the office and her first client was already there, wide-eyed and eager to begin. All Rebecca could muster up was a smile that looked more like a pained sneer and the young girl's smile faded. Julia Halloway, nine years old, and suffering from separation anxiety brought on by the fact that she was adopted only a year ago. Adorable but oh so frail and Rebecca knew that smile had just set her back weeks in progress.

She couldn't quite bring herself to care.

The rest of the day wore on like that and the brunette found her focus drifting and her attention wandering as she struggled to pay attention to her clients. It was funny – just a few weeks ago their concerns and troubles had seemed worth delving into. Now they just felt… insipid and tiresome. _Weak. _There was absolutely no substance to them and she just wanted to scream at them until they just got _over_ it.

There was a small knock on the door and Rebecca glanced over to see it open. A wan female face glanced in and offered up a watery smile when she spotted the therapist and her client, a twelve-year-old boy who had an extremely difficult time following authority. Oppositional defiance, though the brunette thought he really was just angry over the fact that he had become an older brother at such an old age. "Am I interrupting?"

In truth she was but Rebecca was looking for any excuse to wrap the appointment up. "No, Trevor and I were just finishing up," she said, forcing a smile. The boy knew that wasn't true and he looked up at her uneasily, but said nothing. "Same time next week?"

"Of course."

The woman and the child stood up together and they walked out, Trevor in front of Rebecca. Trevor's mother smiled warmly as she took the therapist aside. "I can't possibly thank you enough for everything you've done Miss Braswell. Before you Trevor was-"

"Same time next week," Rebecca said, cutting her off. "… I'll see you same time, next week."

There were a few more awkward moments, a few awkward pauses, and then she was alone. She let out a sigh of relief and walked back to her office, or at least started to. Rebecca paused and then ungracefully sank down into one of the chairs, back facing the door, and just sighed again.

Her appointment with Trevor ended before three PM and she had no other appointments, no _scheduled_ appointments, for the rest of the evening. Still, the brunette found herself stuck sitting in the chair for hours on end, staring rather blandly at a ratty old golden clock as its hands ticked determinedly on and on. _Tick… tick… tick…_ There was so much paperwork she needed to start working on, not to mention maybe going and getting something to eat for dinner and perhaps even going _home_, but she just sat there and stared.

Four. Five. Six. Seven. And when the needle ticked onto the eight there was a knock on her door. Rebecca blinked and that was the only sign that she was at all surprised as she heard the door creak open. Footsteps padded softly inside, the door clicked back shut, and she glanced up to see Kid walking by her. Seeing her sitting there in the seat he normally occupied gave him pause for a moment, but without saying anything he walked over to her seat and sat down.

"… I looked into it more."

"You look into what more?"

"My family. I looked into my family."

"What did you find?"

Kid sighed and frowned and glanced to the side. "I don't know what I've found. There are mentions and rumors but-…" His voice trailed off and Rebecca let him just sit in silence for a moment, finding absolutely no reason to push him. "… why would the first child of the Grim Reaper be born so… _late?_"

"I don't know." The therapist's tiredness seeped into her tone. "You're right. That doesn't make any sense."

"Right, it doesn't." He leaned forward, eyes wide and voice suddenly eager. "No. It doesn't at all. And I asked, I did ask him- not about what the librarian said," Kid said idly, and that frightened Rebecca more than the thought that the librarian was dead (_how did he know how did he know?_). "I asked him about something _different_. I asked him about my mother. I should have one, shouldn't I?"

She blinked and immediately remembered the cold and confused expression he had when that topic had been broached in their second appointment together. _I don't have a mother. But everyone has a mother. _"You did?" Rebecca said slowly, unsure just how the reaper wanted her to approach this subject. "What… did he say?"

"He said that I didn't have one." But Kid made a dismissive hand gesture and shook his head. "It's what he says every time but I don't believe it. So I told him what you said. That I had to have one. I mean, I had to come from _some_where, didn't I?"

The brunette nodded and struggled to ignore the cold creeping feeling in her stomach. _Please say you didn't bring me up in this conversation. Please tell me you didn't tell Lord Death oh please, please…_ "Matter cannot be created or destroyed," she said and then just _stopped_. That was something from an old physics or chemistry class and that was _all_ Rebecca could think to say to Kid now.

It didn't matter; she doubted he even heard her. "I asked him this and he… he told me that when I needed to know and when it was actually important I would know just where I came from." And Kid smiled triumphantly at Rebecca. "This means that I didn't just appear. There is an answer to all of this. I just have to keep on digging until I find it."

"Kid…" Rebecca became aware that she didn't have her paper or pen and maybe that was for the best. If she did then she would have to chart everything the young reaper was saying right now and what he was saying felt close to blasphemy. It was better that it all stayed off the record and, if she could, it would be best if he was dissuaded from this line of thought. "Kid, has your father ever done anything to deliberately to hurt you?"

"Deliberately?" Kid smiled humorlessly. "No." A small pause and then, as she was opening her mouth to speak again: "Not that I know of."

"… if your father wouldn't consciously hurt you, then why would he keep information from you that you would need to know? Wouldn't you think that maybe he's keeping this a secret for a reason?"

"Did you parents always keep secrets from you for only pure reasons?"

It was a simple and, most likely, innocent question, but for a moment Rebecca thought she saw _something_ crawl behind Kid's face and his voice wasn't his but it was The Voice and there had been secrets kept (_like the horse_), so many secrets, and only because everyone was so afraid…

"There was a witch at the school recently. She used her own child as an experiment to try to awake the kishin." His voice was soft and the reaper looked down. "Parents can do horrible things to their children if they think it's better for them."

_Yes. Of course they can._ "… We can talk about this more next week Kid." It was the only thing Rebecca could think to say in response and as she spoke she could feel the beginnings of a headache clawing at the edges of her consciousness. "When you actually have an appointment we can talk about this as much as you want."

Kid nodded and lifted his head to stare rather quizzically at her. "Why were you even here so late?" he asked, and she just smiled blandly as a response.

_I might just be going crazy. That's all._


End file.
